A season of change

September 01, 2010|By Gayle Gennett Courier Columnist

I’d like to formally welcome fall after a beautiful warm summer. Change is in the air not only in the weather but in the schools as well. There will be new faces leading the helms in Charlevoix and other districts nearby. It’s difficult for some us to wrap our minds around change but oftentimes someone new will bring about an outlook and approach that brings a different view on the same topic. New ideas and new blood can lead to new beginnings.

For some, this fall will be sending your child off to pre- K, kindergarten or the change from home school to the public school setting. Having the ability to select your child’s education through “schools of choice” is also the opportunity to see if the grass really is greener on the other side. As parents we worry about the many “wills” in their lives: Will they get along with others? Will they achieve? Will they make the team and will they come home on time?

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For the recently-retired teacher, fall brings a bittersweet smile as the familiar school buses roll down the highway. For us longtime retirees seeing a school bus is likened to the umbilical cord to education. There is always that tug at our hearts reminding us how great the kids are but also the new found excitement realizing you are only responsible for yourself and not the lives of others. Time spent educating the future generation is priceless and often the best years of our lives. They will never be forgotten as many of us still savor those precious memories in the form of homemade thank you notes from former students.

For the new teacher there is the excitement and anticipation of having your classroom to yourself and diligently trying to figure out how to meet all the state standards and still have fun in the classroom. But it’s your room and your students and the feeling of guiding your own flock is almost as good as the feelings from parenting and seeing your kids become kind and caring individuals.

When I walk into a store and see new school supplies childhood memories flood my mental visuals of getting a new school bag and filling it with crayons and sharpened pencils. Attending Catholic schools from first through 12th grade, my memory bank brings up many things. At the top of the list is cleaning the oil cloth on the desk (I am known for being a clean freak) that was assigned to you all year. Oil cloths on the desks served the purpose of protecting the wood as well as keeping it sanitary. What a good idea someone had back in the early 50s. Maybe it came out of the need to disinfect since fear of disease brought about the swallowing of sugar cubes laced with immunizations to protect future generations.

The Bank of Dearborn provided the schools I attended with blue and white book covers that we learned to carefully manipulate to cover each book. Our entire class of 31 students learned to make folds almost origami-like for future use for our brothers and sisters. To this day I claim my Catholic education for teaching me how to perfectly wrap a present after folding and covering textbooks for 12 years.

For me, my favorite part of the day was penmanship because it was an art to get my capital “F”s to look like swans and having a “G” as the letter in my first name brought with it the opportunity to get creative with a little swirl. Spelling bees were a highlight as well as math flashcards. I swear I could add, multiply and subtract on my fingers carefully hidden behind my back faster than any student in the class. I still occasionally do math on my fingers and have been mistaken for communicating with the deaf.

Safety patrol officer — boy what an honor that was to protect youth on the playground and be allowed to carry the nun’s books back to the convent. I proudly sported my arm badge while stationed at a locked door allowing entrance for staff and parents only as the students were attending Mass just around the corner. Now as I reflect on all of this it makes sense for me to guard a door rather than attend Mass. I was a member of the church choir and, on more than one occasion, a choral stick flew my way but I was fast-ducking just in the nick of time. It had something to do with my need to entertain my friends via notes, making faces and whispering.

So, fall is upon us as well as a new school year. Class is in session and I’ll sit on my lawn chair, java in hand and smile knowing that this next generation is in good hands and the only persons behavior I am responsible for is my own. Believe me when I say that this alone keeps me busy.